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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29609538">Perfectly Alright</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnleafAuthor/pseuds/AutumnleafAuthor'>AutumnleafAuthor</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Deep Space Nine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, But in its own way, Comfort?, M/M, Post-Canon Cardassia, a little idea of how those two spend their last minutes among the living, about ninety years post-canon in fact</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:31:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,231</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29609538</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnleafAuthor/pseuds/AutumnleafAuthor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Julian's mind has long since declined, and alongside it Elim's body. Today, though, that's alright.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Julian Bashir/Elim Garak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Perfectly Alright</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I recently read tinsnips "You are receding" (https://archiveofourown.org/works/984160), and it left me wistfully considering that Julian, at the end of his life, would likely lose the benefits of his enhancements. From there on, I tried to make myself at least a little bit happy by imagining how it would be okay.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Briefly, Elim entertained the thought that, as the sun shone through the window just so, framed by floating curtains, golden in the way it was on spring mornings on Cardassia, they might as well have been back on that old family property of Julian’s on Earth that they’d visited seven years ago. The way the soft glow only caught the fewest grains of dust in the air and caressed his dear lover in their warm shine, his hair glittering silvern, and yet still sticking out in every direction, the picture of age and dignity and innocence and youth. The Never-Ending Sacrifice now lie folded in his lap as he took a breath and observed. His beloved’s eyes were unfocused, glancing in his general direction, Julian’s dear bear was cradled in his curled-up form on the bed. He’d been playing with the ear again, it was coming off, and Elim regretted that he wouldn’t be able to muster up the strength to hold a needle so he could make it whole again.</p><p> </p><p>But right now, that was alright.</p><p> </p><p>“My dear,” and to anyone else, there was no reaction, but the light flutter of the left eyelid Elim was proud to still observe gave his beloved away. “I’m afraid I’ve been lying to you. Or rather, I wasn’t entirely forthcoming with a certain piece of information.”</p><p> </p><p>His mouth seemed intent on emulating the feeling of Cardassia’s sands, so he carefully reached for the cup on the side table of his recliner. A small droplet of water ran down his finger, and another, but he found that didn’t matter today. It’s not as if it was surprising.</p><p> </p><p>“You see, for about half a year now, we have not only been husbands, as before, but also neighbours.” A slight twitch of fingers around the tattered brown bear. Elim allowed himself a wistful second of remembering how his Julian would maybe have chuckled, <em>‘That’s by far not the worst lie you’ve told me, Elim’</em>, but there hadn’t been so much as a sentence from him in a little over three years now. But that was okay.</p><p> </p><p>“I thought you wouldn’t like a disturbance in your sanctum here, at least not one of an old tailor not being able to keep his dinner down like he used to.” He repressed a light laugh. It would only wreak havoc on his lungs, he was certain.</p><p> </p><p>“But you see, my dear, I’m afraid it is now time.” A glance at the chronometer on the wall, and indeed, at least his inner clock hadn’t failed him yet, the two hours of his visit were up – it was, indeed, now time.</p><p> </p><p>“Unfortunately, my beloved, I won’t be reading to you any longer. They’ll move my bed in here any minute now, so I may fall asleep beside you once again.”</p><p> </p><p>An unruly white strand of hair made itself known before his eyes, and as he moved to swat it away, Elim was once again amazed at his own hands. Years of fighting, tailoring, gardening, writing, and yet, here, in the end, there barely seemed to be any muscle left in them. <em>A shame, really</em>, a small part of his mind supplied<em>. You should’ve stayed in shape to defend yourself</em>. But he could only smile and shake his head. <em>That won’t be necessary</em>, he thought. <em>There is nothing left I must fight for</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve spoken with our dear daughter about a week ago. She came in to see you, too, if you remember.” Julian wouldn’t remember, he knew. That was alright. “She asked if there was any unfinished business. I wonder, my dear, do you remember asking that? But really, there was nothing I could tell her. I’d been thinking about it for a long time now, but in the end, there was nothing I could tell her that mattered. At least she knows we were perfectly contented. She’s on her way back to Deep Space Nine now, I’m sure.” He allowed himself another smile. “Nerys will curse that I hadn’t told her my time had come. But I think she’ll know too that we were happy. Weren’t we?”</p><p> </p><p>The door silently swooshed open, and the curtains eagerly accepted the breeze it created, seemingly unaware of the shiver going through Elim’s body at the very same. Slowly, he laid the book on the side table. Julian’s leg stretched from its position as the two nurses pushed the medicinal bed inside, yes, he wouldn’t have liked Elim moving in. A younger man, he would’ve considered the bed too comfortable, too luxurious, inviting complacency, but now, as it was levelled to create a larger space for him beside his beloved, the bed was just right.</p><p> </p><p>A hand on his elbow, helping him up, gentle fingers removing the comfortable overcoat, oh, how he wanted to tell them that he wouldn’t break with just a little more force, but there was no need to tell himself any more lies. Not today. Careful steps towards the bed, a flicker of uncertainty in Julian’s eye, but that was to be expected. Covers drawn back, and getting his legs up onto the smooth surface was a bit easier if he used his upper body as leverage. One last time, he could have the dignity of lying himself to bed.</p><p> </p><p>He was barely aware of the nurses’ presence as they tidied up the blankets. Behind him, the door swooshed back shut, but that was unimportant to Elim as mere centimetres from him, those oh so dear shining bronze eyes with their intelligent little green spots gazed into his, deceptively awake. They weren’t, he knew that, their essence had gone as his dearest’s nature had reasserted themselves, but he lost himself in them nonetheless.</p><p> </p><p>A rustle, and then a warm hand, almost as leathery as his own, and hadn’t that been a delight, when those wrinkles started coming? Gentle fingers tracing his right ocular ridge, exploring his own wrinkles and craters and hills with the same wonder their children had employed. Gingerly, he brought his own hand up and settled it into the soft fall of his lover’s neck, so smooth and unadorned and utterly perfect. Another small movement, and Elim barely had to think as he, too, leaned forward, until his <em>Chufa</em> touched to Julian’s forehead, and his beloved let out a contented sigh, and his eyes fluttered closed. As Elim breathed out, he felt his eyes doing the same, and thought, yes. This is perfectly alright.</p><p> </p><p>~*~</p><p> </p><p>There is a statue in Cardasi’or depicting what could be a snake or a vine wound around what could be a pillar, or a staff. The plaque below it announces it to be in memoriam of the honoured citizens Senator E.  Garak and his enjoined, Doctor J. S. Bashir. All kinds of stories float around the statue, whispered in reverence by friends and strangers alike. They say they died within minutes of each other, as far as the doctors could tell, in the retirement centre on the southern continent. That the senator had read to his enjoined ever since he had to be transferred to the care facility. But mostly they say that, as their children came to view the bodies, unmoved on their deathbeds, they had looked more peaceful and happy, entangled together, as they had during their long years together, basked in the warm sun of the planet they helped shape.</p>
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